


The shining way

by Vlad_the_Impala



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Brotherly Love, Gen, can't survive without hurt/comfort, goddamn woman, ma pantha anjana, or do I say twoshot?, the second oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-06 19:32:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1110685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vlad_the_Impala/pseuds/Vlad_the_Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'This is the shining way', Ma Pantha Anjana's Tarot card said to Bård.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vegard

**Author's Note:**

> I would like you all folks to listen to Kurt Nilsen's No Excuse as an epigraph or an epilogue to this work. Or just the lyrics are here, take a moment:
> 
> Open up and let me in, I'm getting cold.  
> I’ve been trying to prove you wrong, but now it’s getting old.  
> I’ve made some blunders, I’ve made a few,  
> I’m full of regrets.
> 
> There’s no excuse for what I’ve done,  
> There’s no excuse for what I’ve done,  
> There’s no excuse for what went wrong...  
> Can you forget about it and move on?
> 
> Open up and let me in, I’m begging you.  
> I know I’ve done some big mistakes  
> But don’t shove me out!  
> I cannot turn back time and even if I could, 
> 
> There’s no excuse for what I’ve done,   
> There’s no excuse for what I’ve done,   
> There’s no excuse for what went wrong.  
> Can you forget about it and move on?   
> Can you forget about it and move on 
> 
> I know it cuts like a knife,   
> The pain that I’ve done to you.   
> There is no telling of what’s to come,   
> But I wanna see it through.  
> If I could take it away, you know I would.
> 
> There’s no excuse for what I’ve done,   
> There’s no excuse for what I’ve done,   
> There’s no excuse for what went wrong.  
> Can you forget about it and move on?  
> Can you forget about it and stay strong...

Vegard tapped his fingers nervously on the table and glanced at his watch. Bård was running good twenty minutes late now, and he was getting really nervous. Bård was always late, but this time the case was sick. Of course, he would claim it was but work, but Vegard could tell by a look at his face there was more to it. Bård had to tell him something special at 4:30 (well, now 4:52) Tuesday evening in their office room.

He had been rather weird last couple of days, Vegard couldn't but admit. He was running mostly alone, and they almost stopped accidentally brushing hands, arms and shoulders against each other. Now that Vegard thought about it, it had been so long he had almost forgotten how it felt - to have his little brother's knee pressed stubbornly into his leg (when he wanted to spread his legs, nothing could possibly make him uncomfortable), or just feeling his living fidgeting warmth pressed casually against anywhere on his body. In the stream of days it really went unnoticed, but with that little reassurance taken away from him all of a sudden, Vegard had to admit, he was uncomfortable. He was... cold.

The door creaked open and Bård, a little puffed up, a folder pressed under his arm, walked in. His hair was greasy and his shirt crumpled, clearly thrown on haphazardly, and his face was distant and concerned. Vegard hadn't seen that little frown in ages. He rose to greet Bård, but Bård just waved his hand at him. 'Don't bother, brother,' he said, sitting down on the chair across the table from Vegard. 'This isn't going to be a long talk'.

Vegard examined Bård's frame. Everything screamed wrong. Bård was messed up and he carried a folder. And he called him 'brother' off camera. However strange it could seem, between them two 'brother' was a separating term. It meant: 'I acknowledge our bonding, but I need a time out'. When they were bastardly buddies, they were 'hey', 'you', and 'he'. When they were one and the same, they clung to the names. They had a million pet names and cuss words for each other. But when they were on 'brother' addressing between themselves, that meant either they had been spending too much time together and were getting on each other's nerves, or something was seriously not okay. Vegard frowned.

'Are you okay? Do you need some rest?'

Bård shook his head.

'Nah. I'm fine. Vegard, down to business. I came to tell you just one important thing. I'm going on on my own. Here in this one are the papers,' he opened his folder in front of Vegard. 'You have to sign them, your signature is the last I need, and I will be free to leave.'

Vegard opened his mouth - and closed it again.

‘E-excuse me? Did I mishear?’

‘No,’ Bård replied coldly. ‘Vegard, please sign these papers. I’m breaking my contracts. I’m signing off our team. Yes, I mean it.’

Vegard inhaled, searching for a reaction, but had to exhale, empty. His brain refused to accept the information he’d just got.

‘Erm… for how many minutes?’

Bård shook his head, trying to stay calm.

‘Forever,’ he managed, fury at the back of his voice.

And then it dawned on Vegard – the entire meaning of his words. He blinked a few times, searched for something in Bård’s clear eyes, but found nothing but empty coldness behind transparent contact lenses. The words stuck in Vegard’s throat in one lump. He grasped hopelessly at the saving thought it was but one of Bård's practical jokes - Calle would be much better in this role, but he knew Bård was good when he had a prank on his mind.

'Are you fucking with me?'

Bård scoffed.

'Oh damn it. Do I look like it?'

Vegard touched his hand softly.

'You look like shit, to be honest. Hey...'

But he didn't have the time to finish the phrase. Bård jerked his hand away in fury before unknown and slapped his both hands on the table.

'Listen to me! Why don't you ever listen to me?! Why don’t you ever take me seriously?! Why can't you get into business once in a while?! We're not brothers in this, Vegard. We're colleagues. And I'm quitting this. You understand me? I'm out of this job. Don't start the fucking family drama.'

Vegard looked at the papers, then up at Bård, still refusing to accept the fact he was being serious.

'...you're quitting?' he asked finally, a little hesitantly. 'Like, for real? I mean... I'm sorry, but... this is kinda unexpected...'

Bård nodded firmly.

'Yes. Finally you’re getting it. Yes. This is my choice, brother. I'm quitting this team. The I Kveld show – oh, just don’t tell me that we’ve just started. All of it, man. The side projects. The company. I'm quitting the comedy duo Ylvis. I'm leaving this show and this all entirely to you. Do what you want with it. I have plans and I have materials. I'm starting my own act. No cameo appearances of anyone of you guys over here, just so it is clear. No help from you or whoever. Just me and a whole new team. I have a good team, brother. And I have enough money and wit, I assure you, to fully support myself. All you have to do is sign the papers and let me go.'

Vegard put his fingertips together, finger to finger, connecting the dots. He needed silence, for once.

'Okay,' he said, looking down at the folder. 'But do I have the time till... let's say till ten o'clock today's evening? I... still have to get this into my head and think over it. Do you mind?'

Bård shook his head, and the tension showed in his every move.

'No. Take your time. Thanks for understanding. I still have to settle the script of my first appearance, so excuse me.'

And he rose and went quickly out of the room, closing the door with a short click. A full stop.

* * *

* * *

It had been quite a while Vegard had been going from one corner of the kitchen to another, like a pendulum. The thoughts piled in his head and a couple of times he had to swallow hard to force the feelings back inside. It seemed like his entire body refused to accept Bård's declaration. How?!

He was shattered and destroyed by that decision. Bård was quitting their show, their job – quitting _him_! It was more than Vegard could bear. He was used to Bård laughing at him, to little bratty brother Bård, to evil Bård – to any kind of Bård, but not to the Bård he had witnessed that evening in the office. He didn’t want to talk to him, for once. He left a conversation a couple of remarks. A short exchange. ‘ _We’re not brothers in this. We’re colleagues.’_ If there was anything more painful for Vegard to hear, it was hard to think of it.

_Why, Bård? What have I done wrong?_

_‘Don’t start the fucking family drama!’_

_Okay,_ he thought. _I won’t. No drama. But we can’t help being a family, Bård. You can’t help it. You said it multiple times, you can’t fire me. And what now, you decide to just separate our paths? Without as much as an explanation?_

Years upon years of unconditional trust. Years upon years of too wide hotel beds they didn’t mind sharing whenever one of them felt bad. Years upon years of love, uttered and silent, of love in touches and in phone calls. Years upon years of being one and the same.

_Do you want to go away? Do you not want to see me beside you anymore? But what was the last drop?_

Vegard started remembering everything he could possibly do wrong, but found nothing good enough to be a reason. And that made him feel even worse. What, what could possibly change so suddenly? What went wrong? His little brother was always beside him, always _his,_ and however he behaved, Vegard knew his little brother loved him…

Or maybe the little brother just grew up?

Vegard stopped and leaned onto the kitchen table.

_Oh boy…_

It suddenly dawned on him that his little brother was now in his late twenties. Late goddamn twenties, thirty wasn’t far away, and that meant something, didn’t it? He had grown up. His brother was not a teenager anymore, he wasn’t a little bird Vegard was used to hugging and kissing playfully.

_Oh, dumbass… for me you are always little…_

Vegard grabbed his own jet-black locks in sudden realization.

_Yes, this is what I’ve been doing wrong. I’ve been tying you down. I wanted you to stay under my wing, and you can’t. You’ve been too big for a while, and I… oh my. Forgive me, little brother…_

He took a phone out of his pocket hastily and dialled the familiar number. Bård was seemingly waiting for a call – he picked up immediately after the first tone.

‘Hello?’

‘Um… hello,’ Vegard greeted. ‘I’m calling… in business.’

‘Yeah, I figured,’ Bård answered in a strange voice. ‘So what have you decided?’

Vegard took a deep breath.

‘I’ll sign them,’ he said calmly. ‘If you don’t want to work with me, fine. But, Bård. I need you to promise me one thing.’

‘Yeah, what?’ Bård asked kind of wearily.

‘Take good care of yourself, okay? You know how to do it best. Do you promise?’

Bård sighed on the other side.

‘Yeah, fine. I promise. I’m a grown man, Vegard. I can do that.’

‘I know,’ Vegard said, his heart wringing in pain. ‘But just… wanted to remind you… after all, I’m a brother… sorry…’

‘No need to be sorry,’ Bård dropped. He was waiting politely for anything else Vegard had to say. And Vegard found the courage:

‘And… one last question, can I?’

‘Yeah, what?’

‘You… don’t want to see me beside you ever again? Like, ever?’

From the other side there was a noisy exhale and Vegard hurried:

‘Well, I guess this question doesn’t need an answer, or does it? Okay, I won’t bother. Good night, Bård. Sweet dreams, if nothing else… and good luck.’

And, not waiting for a goodbye, he put down the phone, hid it in his pocket and started walking up and down the kitchen again, from the corner to the corner, measuring the night with his heavy, even footsteps.


	2. Bård

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mending your hearts, bitches.
> 
> Based on my own personal experience in jazz, which showed me one thing: if you ain't good at improvisation, you ain't for it. Here's to Yuri Borisovich who put up with us, and especially me, who could never and still can't improvise.

…And he put down the phone. Not even waiting for a word. He ended it. And Bård felt ringingly hollow. He threw the phone along his bed and it slipped off the edge and fell to the floor. But Bård didn’t care.

_It doesn’t matter. Why would it?_

He curled up on the bed and went back to staring at the opposite wall, like he had been for a while now. His opened laptop was glaring at him from the bedside cabinet. Bård had turned off the waiting mode a while ago, so it just wouldn’t doze off. The pause screen showed Bård himself with a little plump lady. Ma Pantha Anjana, he remembered the name clearly, although right after the filming he seemed to have forgotten it. He recalled the woman for the millionth time, and couldn’t swallow a lump in his throat and make it go away.

_‘Everything arises and passes away. When you see this, you are above sorrow. This is the shining way.’_

God, why did he even have to run through the old unedited videos? Who gave them to him? Who thought it was a good idea to push him to the opportunity?

_Do you think it’s easy for me, brother? If I were you, I wouldn’t think that…_

_‘Divorce. What do you cling to?’_

_‘I don’t know…’_ his own voice echoed in his head.

 _‘I know’_ , Vegard always knew better.

_‘Yes, I cling to him…’_

And a lot of meaningless banter. Except for another moment, when another device told him ‘of course’. Of course the series would have been better with only him as a host. Bård bit his lip. Now that there was no turning back he thought he had better stayed at blissful not caring. Why was he so bored that evening as to re-watch their old videos? He had been okay with his position and with the life he led. With the way he was treated. With the way his talent was shown – and it wasn’t so selfish to admit he had a talent, was it? He was okay with it. But then he rewatched that episode – just a stupid episode! But something suddenly snapped.

He wondered now why he had stuck to Vegard for so long. He was a versatile man, he could have drifted away a while ago and started developing his every talent. He could be an orchestra man, a genial comic and an acrobat – and all at once. He could be a one man show. Instead, he was stuck with his older brother fooling around. He painfully remembered all the times he was embarrassed by Vegard, every time Vegard behaved like a huge man-child, every time they _both_ were just men-children, - and felt painfully wasted. He could be a million times better! He could be an international success!

Instead, he was stuck in one place. And the force holding him back was his attachment to Vegard.

And it took him years and a hundred re-watches of a stupid long-forgotten episode about a weird old magician. He didn’t even believe in that kind of stuff… or did he?

Bård buried his nose between his knees, then sniffed and straightened on his bed. He had his papers arranged and signed – he could consider Vegard’s signature in his pocket. His new team was ready. His script was finished. His rehearsal date was settled. There was no time to feel like a lost little boy. He smiled slightly, anthough not sincerely, and reached to close his laptop. He told Vegard not to start the family drama, he didn’t need to start one on his own. He had a new beginning ahead, and you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, now can you?

Bård unzipped his jeans and threw them away, then sat up a little to take off his tee. He had to wake up early the next day. And he wanted to sleep. And most of all he wanted to forget Vegard’s lost brown eyes, staring at him, looking for something in his face – never finding it. Bård closed his eyes and started counting…

* * *

* * *

The spotlight blinded him and the faces somewhere out there were lost in the flood of the light. Bård raised his hands and spoke, but he didn’t even hear himself. He wasn’t worried – he was exhausted and wasted, entirely and painfully, he was empty. Words came together without much effort from his burning brain to his dry mouth, and he completely let go. There was no way back, and the way forward was flooded with white light not letting him see anything and just hurting his eyes. As far as he could tell, it had been  the worst performance ever.

He waved at the audience, smiling, but he felt cold and naked announcing the goodbye to them. The filming was about to finish. His first show as a single act was coming to an end. And all that Bård wanted to say to them, the truth he had at the back of his mind was one single word: ‘alas!’

* * *

* * *

It’d been a few weeks and he had barely seen Vegard. He saw him maybe two or three times, and he always wore a suit and his face was worried. Something in the papers was wrong and Vegard took it on himself to help Bård avoid any unexpected responsibility – and Bård was grateful for that. Vegard had been running around and at first it was really easy for Bård not to think about him. After all, they had been spending a lot of time together, and needed some rest just about then. Everything went smoothly and for the first time in a while Bård felt like shining.

His new team was perfect, he couldn’t say anything bad about them. They all worked like parts of one huge mechanism and he felt good with them. They let him shine, and at the same time they had his back. They were excellent musicians and they were hilarious. They were excellent to work with. The only thing wrong about them was tiny and unimportant, and Bård thought that couldn’t spoil them a performance. The thing was, they demanded everything scripted. The amount of steps right and left. The hand moves in the dialogue. Everything had to be cleared.

At first it didn’t quite show. They rehearsed musical numbers and worked on the dance moves to be in synch. Inventing the dance went a little slower, but actually it was pretty fun. The guys were good, they felt the beat and whenever Bård would glance to the others, they were moving in one stream.

Beat – step – step – step – clap – wave – clap – step – step – HA!

Slide – backflip – three – four – left – right – left – eight!

The music ended and they were all in one line and Bård could barely hold childish joy, so good it was.

‘Another time?’

‘One more, then moving on to ballerinas!’

Of course, his show had a drag number, it was one of the best thing in the art of humour!

He couldn’t quite tell what he didn’t like when he watched the recordings they made of rehearsals. There was something little, something unsettling, something _not enough_ , but when he looked at their moves, they were all in synch, their faces were priceless and everything seemed to work. Bård was nitpicky when it came to his own work, but this time they were moving fine.

But then it came to the words. To the jokes. And that’s when Bård crashed into a wall of misunderstanding.

‘But… I mean… here, you see? Whatever I ask, just answer the complete opposite of the answer, okay? You see? Like this here. We'll come up with that on the spot, it's easy. Let’s move on, we have three bigger sequences not written out!’

He searched their eyes for a glimpse of understanding, looked for a faint trace of a nod – nothing.

‘Why don’t we just brainstorm a little now and write down all the best questions and all the most hilarious answers?’

This suggestion came from the most sensible one – a tall, huge, too white guy named Svein. Bård eyed him, and Svein just calmly examined his face.

‘But… what’s the point of it all? This kind of stuff won’t be funny tomorrow already!’ Bård tried. 'It works better when fresh, you have to...'

Svein just sighed.

‘That’s the point,’ he said. ‘ _You_  are the professional among us, Bård, you have to know. It doesn’t need to be funny to us.’

‘But… how?!’ he exclaimed. ‘Can’t you guys improvise something? In this kind of thing, it's the best! It's like jazz, you see? We have to be inventive. When it’s funny to us, _they_ get the vibe! We must be contagious, you see?’

Svein inclined his head to the side a little, as if he was talking to a stupid child.

‘Bård,’ he said. ‘You wanted to try something different. I was always fascinated by deadpanners. Why don’t we do something like this once in a while? Improvisation is a rare talent. You have it, and that’s brilliant. But we’re not all like you. If we’re to work together, please take _our_ possibilities into consideration.’

And Bård had nothing to object. He was the one to improvise. He – _they_ – used to improvise everywhere: in the words, in the music, their every reaction was candid and this is what made each of the performances a candy. But now it was different. And Bård felt just how badly he missed Vegard.

That evening in bed he did another rewatch of all the rehearsal recordings and understood what was wrong. With Vegard, they worked like one. No, not _like_ – they _were_ one, and like one they moved and interacted. With these guys, there were three separate dancers – perfectly in sync, but they were all separate. Nobody but Bård could probably notice that, but it was unsettling. And Bård remembered the reassuring presence by his side, when he just instinctively knew where Vegard would move and what he would say the next moment – and how hilarious they were together, how they made each other laugh and how proud he was of every chuckle Vegard let out in response to his jokes and antics. He remembered the understanding look of the dark eyes of Vegard’s, how he could just glance into those eyes and get everything at once – a reassurance, a motivation and a script for the next minute. Their exchange was magnificent.

And Bård felt just how exhausted he was. He closed his laptop and turned away to the wall, curling up into a ball.

_Who told me it was a good idea?_

He himself decided that. With a little help from Ma Pantha Anjana.

_Føkk…_

It was painful to admit he had been a fool. But now there was no going back. And Bård could only face his present. He had been a fool. And now he had to sort it out all by himself. Alone. Because he still had his pride and he wouldn’t go to beg Vegard to accept him back. Even Vegard wouldn’t be proud of him for that.

_I’m tired of being a disappointment._

He closed his eyes and dozed off just to wake up the next morning for the next rehearsal, for another brainstorm, for a soon-to-be-unfunny script (he could tell even then it would lose all the spirit with freshness), for another moralization from Svein, for the problems with costumes, for a million of unanswered questions and minor misunderstandings.  The script had to be written out, strictly and for once. And Bård watched the work he had loved so quickly turn into labour.

However much he wanted to break free and have the rule, his team moved past his intentions. He ended up with another voice of reason, but while Vegard's was inobtrusive and tailored for him, saving from future regrets and letting him be happy, Svein's was plain and pushing, not differentiating. And he couldn't bear having Svein _instead of_ Vegard. Bård felt like he had suddenly grown up - they said it was when you grew up that you realized how right your elders were... but he wasn't prepared. And as time passed and they changed the script here and there and learned it by heart, Bård liked it less and less. And by the time he had to go out on stage he was full with nothing but anxiety, ennui and hatred.

* * *

* * *

He knew whose eyes were watching him the most carefully from the audience. Vegard came and invited their friends and sidekicks Calle and Magnus with him to watch Bård's first show as Bård 'Mr. BUY' Ylvisåker - probably just to have a good laugh at him. Because why else would his brother whom he so unexpectedly deserted want to come and watch this fair of betrayal?

He wasn't angry at Vegard. He couldn't blame him. He realized too late that he had been sawing the chair he had been sitting on. He was a failure. He was a disappointment. He felt it physically.

* * *

* * *

 

Every single note his voice slipped on sounded twice louder in his head. Every move he made a millisecond later than the others stood out to him. Every unfunny joke made him feel more pathetic. Even the drag segment didn't make him a jot more confident. The costumes, the phrases - everything felt wrong. And the worst thing was that the audience was cheering unstoppably, and in Bård's fevered mind it turned into constant torture, constant mockery and shame.

And finally it was over. The lights went out. The cameras were turned off. And Bård could finally run away - but there was nowhere to run from himself.

* * *

* * *

Calle and Magnus rushed at him and started noisily congratulating, hugging him and shaking his hands.

'Hey, good job!'

'Excellent, Bård! You did so fine!'

'The ballerinas! Damn, man, I thought I'd die laughing!'

'Hilarious, absolutely hilarious!'

They quoted him and laughed, and Bård only smiled weakly. But they were his long-time and trusted friends. They understood silence. They quickly hugged him one last time, exchanged nods and Magnus whispered right into his ear:

'Vegard is waiting for you in the dressing room, wanted to congratulate you. You know, with champagne and your papers - finally finished all the kerfuffle, thank God. You're in the mood for fan meet-n-greet? Fifteen minutes, the very most.'

Bård only shook his head.

'Then there, back exit,' Magnus whispered, turned him and pushed him in the back.

'Good luck!' Calle called from behind his back, and Bård just automatically exhaled 'thanks'. Only one thought pounded in his head: Vegard. Brother.

He forgot all his pride. He held on bare recklessness. All he wanted was to cling to his flesh and blood - to his very own. He would go straight to his brother's arms. If _he_ didn't accept him now, Bård would lose his faith.

He hurried through the corridor, half-heartedly accepting congratulations on the run. They were so plastic and unreal saying the same words it was harsh. Bård opened the door to his dressing room and went in, barely holding himself together.

Vegard looked up at him and a wide smile lit up his face - the genuine smile of pride.

'Bård! Damn, you were good, my man, let's celeb...'

Bård hadn't stopped for a second. He went up to Vegard and wrapped his arms around him, ignoring the hand held out for a handshake and finely ironed expensive suit. This colleague-ish officialese hiding Vegard's feelings cut him like a knife.

If Vegard didn't hold him, if he only didn't understand him, like he used to...

Vegard exhaled all the words unsaid warmly against his cheek. His arms embraced Bård's shoulders and waist softly, firmly and sincerely, accepting him whole, head to toe and unsettled soul, with all his hangups and mistakes, with that betrayal and failure - it all didn't matter. He offered Vegard all he had - himself, a spoilt brat, - and Vegard took him whole, without a word of reproach.

'You did good tonight,' he said quietly, and his voice was full of the most sincere pride. ‘My little brother…’

And strangely, their usually separating term now expressed all Vegard’s love and loyalty, and it stung  Bård right in the heart. He broke away and clenched his fists, feeling tears gathering in his eyes and needing desperately to throw all the anger he had at himself off his shoulders.

‘Enough of this! I know I’m a failure, don’t push on my conscience! I fucked up, come on, sue me! Shit all over me! Only for fuck’s sake, don’t pretend you forgave everything! I hate you when you play the righteous brother, because you know what? _You’re not!!!_ ’

He shouted it in Vegard’s face and stopped on one place, red with fury, puffed up, his hair in his face – just the brat from the backyard, the little brother. Vegard looked at him and smiled widely.

‘You… really, man, you’re unfair. I’m not a righteous brother, not a jot! Don’t you think I’m playing a charity organization here. I’m just… man, it’s me who fucked up here.  I’m sorry, okay?’

Bård scoffed.

‘Oh come o-on… self-deprecating begins.’

Vegard sighed.

‘No, really, man. I’m sorry. I know what I did wrong. I know exactly. You wanna know what? You will agree with me a hundred percent, I promise.’

Bård eyed him head to toe.

‘What?’

‘I’m overly protective of you,’ Vegard said softly, looking down and rubbing his fingers fiercely. ‘Yes. You’re always little to me. I get on your nerves because of it. I wouldn’t let you shine, I would never give you enough… space. And I appreciate your wish to break free. Yeah… and… I’m letting you go. Like this. It’s really hard for me to do, but I will. I will sign your papers right now, in front of you, so you see I understand my mistake. And I can learn, Bård. I learn quickly. And then we will celebrate your success. Because it was a success, and I bow down to you.’

He finished the speech and swallowed hard. Bård examined him again, not quite believing what he had just heard.

‘What?’ he asked again, but this time all that was in his voice was surprise.

‘You are a success without me,’ Vegard said, letting out a noisy breath. ‘And I must let you go.’

‘Success? Are you fucking with me now?’

Vegard looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

‘No… why?’

‘Because it was a wreck!’ Bård exploded. ‘It was a catastrophe, Vegard! Everything is shit! This script is so rotten it smells! I was off key, off the spirit, off the rhythm – and don’t tell me you didn’t notice, you are a fucking professional entertainer, and it couldn’t just slip!’

‘It didn’t,’ Vegard shrugged simply. ‘There was a note you didn’t take at once. But the moves were perfectly in synch. And the script – I didn’t know you were a deadpanner a few levels better than Calle! And don’t even let me start on ballerinas – you rock the drag!’

Bård let out a sniff that sounded more like a sob.

‘Oh enough consoling! Vegard, I still have the taste! I have the touch! I know when a performance is a wreck and this one was a fucking wreck!’

Vegard smiled a little.

‘Say what you think, Bård, but I was watching from the audience. And I’ll tell you what – whatever you think was wrong, _this_ was _so_ right! We would never do something like that together, I swear. I will never be this good.’

Bård took a deep breath.

‘Vegard,’ he said. ‘I rely on your sense, you’ve always had it. Now please, understand right what I have to say. Vegard, it was shit. And it was shit because it was made without you. Okay, you, Calle, Magnus, our entire team, to do them justice, – but first of all _you Vegard._ If _this_ is what’s right to you, I don’t want to be this right. I’d better go worse – if you think for some reason it is worse that the crap I did tonight and weeks before it – but I will go with people I can work with without feeling like shit. Vegard. I…’

And he just stared into his eyes helplessly. He didn’t want to say it. He didn’t want to beg. But Vegard understood him without words. He nodded.

‘Are you sure about that? You don’t want me to sign your papers?’

Bård swallowed hard.

‘Burn’em,’ he said.

Vegard chuckled and grabbed the thin pile of papers and handed them to Bård.

‘Do it yourself. If you are _really_ sure.’

Bård’s lips trembled and he bit them.

‘Sure as fuck,’ he said. ‘You happen to have a lighter?’

Vegard smiled.

‘The stylist happened to have, and see she has forgotten...’

He picked up the lighter and handed it to Bård. Bård grabbed it and lit with trembling fingers – it took him three tries. Vegard watched him calmly, his smile a little sad. Finally Bård brought the papers to the flame and they all lit up. He put the lighter away and watched them burn in his hand.

‘Magnificent,’ he said, a little cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He was burning his freedom, and for once he wasn’t regretting it. Because if this warmth and sense of fulfilment in his chest meant he was tied to the man beside him, watching him so quietly, knowing his every hair – then he would much prefer being tied.

He glanced to Vegard and noticed the sadness in the corners of his eyes.

‘Hey,’ he pushed him slightly with his elbow. ‘Why so dull?’

Vegard smiled a little, glancing to him.

‘It’s until our next rehearsal. Bård, are you completely sure you need me as a performer? Because, you know, if you need support, I am always there, but… I saw you today and… you honestly were so good…’

Bård put his free hand around Vegard’s shoulders and pushed him playfully with his hip.

‘Oh come on, buddy fancy suit! I don’t work without you, as much as I think you don’t work without me. In this shit we’re together forever! And I honestly would rather listen to moralizations from you than some random blokes I’ve just met. You earned being grumpy a little…’

Vegard looked to him – their noses were almost touching – and chuckled.

‘You will burn yourself just about now.’

Bård glanced to his hand and dropped the burning leftovers of the paper with a gasp, jumping away. Vegard quickly trampled the still burning ashes down and glanced to Bård.

‘Okay?’

Bård sucked his burnt index finger with a little wince and nodded.

‘Fine,’ he mumbled.

Vegard looked to him softly, and Bård read in his eyes: ‘ _You will never change. But this is what’s so cool about you._ ’ And he nodded, taking his finger out of his mouth and smiling back at Vegard.

‘I said we weren’t brother in this, but colleagues,’ he said, finding the gut, ‘and you know what? It was a helluva mistake, okay? I would much rather be greeted by your ranting about the mess than a professional smile. You know? I am too fond of you, old chap…’

They exchanged glances again, and Bård came back to Vegard’s side. Vegard smiled.

‘Not even old…’

‘Oh come on…’

They both turned to the slight creaking sound. The door opened slowly, revealing Calle and Magnus in weird positions, humming a little entrance tune simultaneously. Bård chuckled at the sight.

‘Guys! You’re right on time for the celebration!’

They went into the room and Magnus closed the door.

‘Celebrating you, Bård!’ he smiled, but his eyes were sad.

‘Dancing on the ashes of the Ylvis duo, but at the end of the day it is all won by Mr. B. U. Y!’ Calle smirked. He was trying his best to be sincere. They clearly hadn’t been eavesdropping. Bård smiled widely.

‘ _Us_ , folks! Celebrating us all! Vegard, they said you had champagne?’

Vegard smiled widely.

‘Yes!’ And he reached for the bottle. ‘Who’s gonna fire?’

‘The hero of the day, of course!’ Calle took the bottle from Vegard’s hands and handed it to Bård. ‘C’mon, the bottle at this ship?’

Bård laughed.

‘The ship, guys, has sailed a while ago.’ He wrapped his arm around Vegard’s shoulder and shot him a knowing smirk under the sad and a little confused stares of their friends. ‘No ashes of Ylvis duo, here! Those on the floor you see ashes of my papers poor Vegard spent so much time with, and with that I say: for us!’

And he grabbed the bottle to open it.

‘Wait!’ Magnus grabbed his wrist.

‘You must be kidding right now,’ Calle dropped with a dead face, glancing from Bård  to Vegard. The brothers exchanged smiles. Magnus stared at Bård in disbelief.

‘You’re not leaving? You’re not drifting away? Like, I mean…’ his eyes searched his face for a proof. Bård put down the bottle and smiled wider.

‘I’ve just burned the papers with these very hands, fellas. I’m staying here with you. We’re in this together, aren’t we?’

Magnus let out some incoherent noises and then suddenly Bård found himself in a triple embrace. He chuckled into warm and soft shoulder of Magnus and threw his arms over Vegard’s and Calle’s waists.

‘You guys…’ he could only manage. A wave of warm feeling rose to his throat and he had to shut his eyes tight as the three pleasant to the touch people patted him and squeezed him and ruffled his hair and said some unimportant but so necessary words.

He grabbed the bottle and ‘fired’ as soon as they released him. Hands wet with champagne, he poured two glasses Vegard had kindly prepared, while Calle ran to grab two more. They waited for him, until he ran in, puffed up, with two fancy pink plastic cups. He refused to say where he had found them, but Bård and Vegard grabbed them immediately, laughing and making faces. The four clinked glasses and drank:

‘For the four!’

That night they ended up geezed and decided to help each other home. They walked out of the building arms around each other – the Ylvisåker brothers in the middle, embracing each other’s waists, Magnus all but sobbing into Bård’s shoulder and Calle all but kissing Vegard, - and would walk further if they hadn’t been stopped, stuffed into one-of-the-crew’s van and driven all the way around and up to each one’s door. Thankfully the one driving was Jens, the new and young member of their team and he just chuckled at them and didn’t lecture. He attempted filming them, though, but drunken Calle was a dangerous creation, and he decided it better to just hide the phone and forget he had one.

They refused to let go of each other and poor Jens had to manually pull each one away and bring up to the door. The brothers’ bonding, though, turned out stronger than Jens’ mighty force. They stumbled out of the van together before Bård’s house and all but crawled (under Jens’ careful eye) up to the door. Vegard even succeeded at opening while Bård was mumbling something incoherent concerning his hair he was fiercely tugging at.

The next thing was blackness.

* * *

* * *

When Bård woke up, he didn’t understand at first where he was. His head was painful and blurry, the surroundings smooth and cold and something heavy was pressing on him from above. He tried to open his eyes, but winced and hissed and abandoned the idea for the next minute at least.

The clouds in his head were slowly dissolving, letting _the now_ chime in. The chimes were painful, to say the least. The space he was in was too tiny and cold. And why did his entire being hurt so much, again?

What had seemed like a dream came to memory and a guess banged in his head like a master bell. Somebody had beaten him up last night, and now they buried him. Alive.

He opened his eyes wide, despite the pain.

The coffin lid was loo warm. And heavy. And curly. And smelly. And the coffin itself was too white and smooth.

Bård let out a breath, suddenly going limp under the living breathing weight on him. He still had to figure out what he was doing terribly hungover and fully dressed in the dry bath with Vegard in a fancy suit lying on top of him breathing his morning-after-the-funny-night breath right under his nose, resting his head under Bård’s chin and his hips comfortably between his legs.  He had to figure it out… but not now… not now.

Bård let out a groan and turned away, covering his face with his arms. He suddenly remembered the papers. The return… the happiness…

 _Well, at least yesterday I was happy_ , he thought to himself wearily. _Maybe Vegard will enlighten me on how exactly happy. To what measures. In what amount. When he wakes up…_

And he sank back to saving sleep.


End file.
